They heard a guitarist and a horn player improvise. “That"s Crazy She Calls Me,” Nathan said.
“I know,” Dorothy said, standing close to him. smiling. “You played the piano and sang it to me when I was convalescing.”
Dorothy was happy after the troubles with Zoë. Her fair hair was full and shining, skin clear and smooth, the scar on her brow was fading, and her eyes flashed with joy when she was with Nathan. She was in her glory, slender and feminine.
People gathered, drawn by the guitar and flugel horn exploring the song, teasing out its mysteries. The beauty of the song captured in the restrained, soulful mood, an intuitive conversation between the players and shared with anyone that wanted to listen. The musicians handed the lead back and forth; the guitarist, improvising, exploring t
